Page 22 of The Write Off

“I can come back later if you’d like to work on things together?” I dust the dirt off my black dress pants trying to remember the last time I sat on the floor.

She shakes her head. “Not that work. I bartend part-time at a place close to here. It’s called Dive.”

This is news to me. I guess it shouldn’t surprise me that much. Most writers have to work to support themselves and their writing, especially those just starting out.

“I’ve never been. Do you enjoy working there?”

“Sure,” she leans back against her apartment door and it’s impossible to miss everything her tank top is doing for her breasts. “It’s a pretty laid back place. Tonight will be dead, seeing as it’s Sunday. They’ll be paying me to talk to myself and make sure the place doesn’t burn down.”

I find myself wanting to see her in this new environment. Pouring drinks and chatting easily with patrons. Or maybe it’s just that I want to make some actual progress on the manuscript. Either way, I want to spend more time with her.

“Maybe I could stop by this evening? If it’s slow we can talk about the revisions. And if you’re busy, I’ll just have a beer and watch the hockey game.”

She quirks her head to the side, amusement dancing in her brown eyes as she looks up at me. “I didn’t peg you for a beer guy. When I think about you unwinding with a drink, you’re in a smoking jacket with a snifter of well-aged brandy.”

Now it’s my turn to smirk. “How often do you think about me, Rilla?”

Her cheeks redden, but she doesn’t look away. “Wow. You didn’t know I had another job and I didn’t know you had a sense of humor. Look at us, getting to know one another.”

Before I can respond the door of her apartment opens, sending her toppling backward into the two women in the doorframe.

“Oof,” the small brunette says as she catches Rilla around the waist. “Where did you…”

Her question hangs in the air as the two women stare up at me. Now I know why she didn’t invite me in.

“Hi!” They say brightly, in unison.

“Your coffee is getting cold, Rilla,” the taller woman says. “Would you like a cup? I’m Maggie, by the way.”

“I’m Betty,” the other one pipes up.

“It’s nice to meet you both. I’m Logan.” I smile at them, partly because it’s the polite thing to do and also because they both seem so friendly.

My name definitely gets a reaction. Both women seem to come to the same realization and their grins get even bigger. Their amused eyes flick between Rilla and myself several times.

“Ohhh,” they say again, so in sync it’s downright impressive. Did they rehearse this?

“Okay, creepy Shining twins,” Rilla says as she pushes them back into the apartment. I can’t help but admire how well her ass fills out her jeans as she does. “Logan doesn’t want to play with you.” Her face is flushed and her eyes are bright when she looks back up at me. “I start work at six.” Her expression is almost apologetic and I realize something.

Embarrassed Rilla is adorable.

“I’ll see you then.” Before she can close the door I add, “I’m sorry again. For being late.”

“At least you showed up.”

She leaves me in the hallway, still puzzling over her mystery scent, amongst other things.

Chapter 11

Rilla

“Think you can remember all that, Kitten?”

I created a fictional universe with a complete history, geography, and ecology. I’ve developed dozens of characters of different species and races. I’ve plotted and written half a dozen novels with intricate, overlapping storylines.

I think I can handle a three-drink order.

Smiling as demurely as I’m physically capable, I say, “I’ll try,” before backing away from the three Chads who’ve claimed one of the prime booths. The bar is busier than I expected given the fact it’s Sunday. Maybe the February blahs are forcing people out of their houses. Sarah is on break and Phil is working in the back, so I’m manning the front on my own.

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